


Becoming Charlotte

by SophieD



Series: How I became Sophie Devereaux [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Backstory, Childhood, Gen, References to Shakespeare, Theater - Freeform, actress, duchess charlotte prentiss, leverage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieD/pseuds/SophieD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie's childhood from a kid to the theatre to becoming Duchess Charlotte Prentiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Charlotte

**Author's Note:**

> No real backstory was given for Sophie in the show. There was an Aunt and a hint about a marriage and the stage name Charlotte. I wrote about her childhood and how she became the Duchess Charlotte Prentiss, an identity that she would use at different times throughout her life.

I had a normal childhood I suppose, if there is such a thing. We are all a sum of our parts and these are the parts that lead me to where I am now.

I was born in New Zealand to British parents. When I was 12 we moved back to England, to an apartment in London, not in a bad part of town but not in a particularly good one either. My mother worked in a shop afternoons and evenings. My father worked in a factory and spent his nights in the pub. I was left mostly to my own. School was difficult for me, not the work but the other students. I didn’t look like most of the other kids with wild black hair and a dark tint to my skin, inherited from some long forgotten ancestor. They made fun of my accent, not quite Kiwi and not quite British. I was embarrassed by it and didn’t talk much. Instead I found solace in books and magazines, dreaming of lives far more interesting than mine. Many hours were spent practicing the voices I heard on the telly, first the British then the others. I taught myself French and Italian and Spanish. I found that I had a talent for accents and for languages and it wasn’t long before I could mimic any of my choosing.

When I was 16, a teacher at my school passed out tickets for the kids to attend a small production of Romeo and Juliet that she was playing in. Most of the kids threw their tickets away but I kept mine and went to see the show. I was so enthralled by the story on the stage that I could hardly pull myself from the seat when it was done. I went to every show for the rest of the play’s run.  
I fell completely in love with the theatre and decided that I would make that my career. I read Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller. I dreamed of being one of the famous actresses in the magazines, travelling the world, shopping in all of the best stores in New York and Paris and Milan. Of being adored by everyone. 

I began to hang out at the local theatre, what the actors called a ‘theatre rat’. Fetching coffee and cleaning in trade for small parts and attention. The actors were always nice to me. They had been theatre rats too. They taught me the tricks of the trade, how to change my age, body, even my race with make-up and costuming. How to catch an audience and to hold them, to transport them to another place and time. How to make them believe anything that I wanted them to.

I worked my way up to the part of Hermia in a production of Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was my big night and I was magnificent. I owned the stage and the audience was enthralled. One gentleman in particular was more than enthralled. He met me at the stage door full of praise. He asked me out for a drink but I politely declined. I didn’t tell him I was still too young.  
The gentleman was back on the second night with an arm full of roses and every night from there on. Slowly I began to warm up to him. His name was Dickie. Dickie Prentiss. He was older than me, in his early 40s. He had never been married and lived with his aunt. He loved the theatre and he thought that maybe he loved me too. 

The night I finally agreed to go out with him was the same night I agreed to marry him. It was also the night that that he told me that he was a Duke, a long distant cousin to the Queen and Lord of a long lost kingdom. He took me his estate outside of London where he and his Auntie, The Duchess lived. They were not filthy rich but they were more than comfortable. We were married in the garden in the spring. I was 18.

I told Dickie my name was Charlotte. It was the stage name I had chosen for myself. Charlotte was not an awkward girl who loved books and hung out back stage in a dirty theatre. Charlotte was a lady. Lady Charlotte Prentiss. The Duchess. It was the role of my life and I worked hard to mold myself into the person worthy of the name. 

Auntie was a true lady in every way and I modeled my new self after her. She was very kind and took me under her wing, teaching me how to properly do afternoon tea, present myself as royalty and dress for a garden party. Dickie taught me the joys of travel and wine and parties with important people. I taught myself how to flirt and shop and adorn myself with short dresses and expensive jewels. It was the life I had always dreamed of for myself. 

Dickie loved American rock and roll music. He was always playing it while he was tinkering with his expensive cars or coins or other toys of his. One day while watching him sort a pile of new stamps for his collection, I actually listened to the words of one of his songs. It was the Eagles, a song called “Lyin’ Eyes”.

“City girls just seem to find out early  
How to open doors with just a smile  
A rich old man  
And she won't have to worry  
She'll dress up all in lace and go in style

Late at night a big old house gets lonely  
I guess every form of refuge has its price  
And it breaks her heart to think her love is  
Only given to a man with hands as cold as ice”

I began to feel sick to my stomach, the wine in my hand had turned sour.

“My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things  
You set it up so well, so carefully  
Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things  
You're still the same old girl you used to be.”

Along with the girl in the song, I hung my head and cried. 

I left Dickie that night. I never said good-bye. I never saw him again. I was 22.

I wandered aimlessly for a while. I ate and drank and went to all the right parties but I didn’t really feel as if I was living a real life. It was all make believe. My life was a stage and Lady Charlotte was just another character. 

The money I had stashed was beginning to run out and it was time to make some decisions. I couldn’t go back to Dickie. I didn’t really love him. I don’t think I ever did. I couldn’t go back to being an actress. I had had a taste of the high life and I didn’t want ever to be that poor or to work that hard again. I didn’t have many life skills but I had my acting talents. If I could be Lady Charlotte with her posh British accent and her good taste clothes and jewels, then I could be anyone. I began to create new identities for myself. Elizabeth and Lara and Tatiana. I was from America and Spain and Russia. I hung out in expensive restaurants and art galleries. I learned to use my looks to con men into thinking I was interested in them, to convince them to buying me expensive things. I learned where they hid their treasures and how to get access to them. I learned to steal those treasures, where to sell them and where to hide them. I learned the manipulations and tricks used by confidence men and to set up games where I could control all of the players. I enjoyed the danger of it all. It made me feel alive. At times I missed the closeness of having a lover or a confidant but the high I got from closing a deal and making my escape was a drug that could never be equaled. I was finally who I was supposed to be. 

I was a grifter. I was a thief. And I was good at it.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and constructive criticism.


End file.
